


if you ask me (i won't say no)

by gothyringwald



Series: gothy's harringrove week of love fics [6]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Drunken Shenanigans, Established Relationship, Fluff, Future Fic, Idiots in Love, Insecurity, M/M, Marriage, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:41:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22536430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gothyringwald/pseuds/gothyringwald
Summary: ‘Tequila always makes me do stupid things.’Billy snorts. ‘Yeah, well this takes the cake.’Steve’s eyes snap open. ‘So youdothink it was stupid?’‘It wasn’t the smartest thing we’ve done.’When Steve and Billy wake up married in Vegas, Steve isn’t sure if it’s what Billy really wants, or if it was just the tequila talking.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Series: gothy's harringrove week of love fics [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1276193
Comments: 44
Kudos: 293
Collections: Harringrove Week of Love





	if you ask me (i won't say no)

**Author's Note:**

> For the week of love prompt ‘accidental marriage’ (might've stretched the idea of the prompt a bit though)

There’s a hammering in Steve’s skull that won’t quit and a giant is squeezing his head between their big, meaty hands. If he moves, he’s pretty sure he’s going to puke, and his mouth tastes like death.

Maybe he is dead and he’s in hell. Tequila hell. 

Flashes of the night before come back to him at the thought of Tequila, but not enough that he remembers most of what happened. It helps him re-orient himself, though, after a moment of wondering why his bed is so hard and why the window moved during the night. He’s not at home. He’s in a hotel, in Vegas. 

One of Robin’s old ACT UP friends just joined the board for…something. Steve can’t remember. But she had promised she’d be at this year’s Black and White Party charity thing for support and old times’ sake. But something came up with work and so she’d asked Steve if he could go, instead. He’d known Simon a little back in the day and he had some frequent flyer miles to use and Billy wanted to see some band, anyway, so they made a whole weekend of it. 

It’s not really Steve’s scene—the party or Vegas itself—and it’s not Billy’s either but it had been pretty nice until the tequila. At least, Steve thinks it was nice. The whole weekend is kind of a blur.

His phone vibrates on the bedside table—louder than a jackhammer—and he rolls over, blindly grabbing for it. He misses alarm clocks. There was always something satisfying about flailing around and smacking the alarm clock into silence in the morning. Fumbling for his cell and sliding his finger over the screen just doesn’t feel the same. 

Except it’s not his alarm that set the phone off. The screen is filled with message notifications and missed calls. His heart leaps. It’s been over twenty years since all that weird shit ended for good, but late night phone calls still send a spike of panic through him.

He pushes himself up, gingerly, and reaches for his glasses. They don’t help with the hangover blur, though, and he tries to blink away the fuzziness as he thumbs through his messages.

There’s one from Dustin congratulating him with a string of emojis and the hashtag loveislove. Steve shakes his head. Henderson thinks he’s younger and cooler than he is.

There are a bunch of others from friends and family and colleagues, all congratulating him, including one from his mother, which seems both as congratulatory as the others and vaguely disapproving in only the way his mother can be. But they’re all too confusing for this time of the day, because he has no idea what he’s done to be congratulated for.

And then he opens Robin’s message:

_OMG, you assholes! I can’t believe I had to find out on Facebook?! The sting of betrayal is deep. Congratulations, dingus! I hate you xxx_

With a follow-up:

_P.S. Heather says she’s pissed you two beat us to getting gay-married. Still hate you <3_

‘Uh, OK,’ Steve says. Because married? What the fuck? Did everyone just have some kind of collective hallucination?

And then the morning light glints off of something on Steve’s left hand and his heart stops.

Because there’s a gold band sitting snugly on his ring finger. It wasn’t there last night.

He swallows down the bitter taste in his mouth and opens up Facebook. He has more notifications than he has ever had. He thumbs through to his profile and blood rushes in his ears.

There are photos of them at the Black & White Party—Billy in his black ‘going out’ jeans and a tight white t-shirt, Steve wearing the tux he last wore to Dustin’s wedding—and a status update that reads: got married to Billy Hargrove.

Fuck. 

His hand shakes as he puts his phone down and he slowly turns to Billy. ‘Billy.’

No response.

‘Billy.’ Steve shakes Billy’s shoulder. Once, then twice.

‘Fuck off,’ Billy rasps out, ‘I’m dying.’

‘You’re not dying,’ Steve says. ‘You’re hungover.’ And so is Steve. He scrubs a hand over his face, upsetting his glasses. Fuck, he’s too old for this.

‘Whatever,’ Billy says and buries his head under the pillow. ‘Fuck off, anyway.’

Steve huffs. He pulls the pillow off of Billy’s head and throws it out of Billy’s reach. ‘C’mon, this is serious.’

‘We’re in Vegas, nothing’s serious,’ Billy says, then snakes one arm out in the direction of Steve’s pillow.

Steve bats his hand away. ‘Would you quit it with the pillows?’

‘I would if you’d stop shouting.’ Billy groans and rolls onto his back, throwing an arm across his face. ‘What’s got you so worked up, anyway?’

‘Just…check your phone.’

There must be something in the tone of Steve’s voice, because Billy is alert, now. Alarmed. Steve feels a momentary pang of guilt but he shakes it off: this is probably all Billy’s fault, anyway. It’s always Billy’s fault when tequila is involved.

Billy pushes himself up, with a wince, and grabs his phone. He scrolls through it, scratching his stomach, brow furrowed. 

Steve clocks the exact moment Billy realises.

Billy looks at his left hand, brows raised, eyes wide. But he doesn’t react the way Steve expected him to—he just _laughs_.

A deep-throated cackle—one of those obnoxious ones Steve loves to hate—head thrown back, eyes crinkled up. He groans, clutching his head, but he’s still laughing.

‘You think this is funny?’ Steve says, a twisting feeling somewhere behind his ribs. He crosses his arms over his chest.

‘Oh, come on, Harrington,’ Billy says. He tilts his head. ‘Wait, is it Hargrove, now? Hargrove-Harrington?’

Steve narrows his eyes. How can Billy _laugh_ at this?

‘Do you think we actually got married?’ Billy shakes his head. ‘I barely remember last night, and you’re a fucking lightweight—‘

‘I am not a lightweight! I can drink you under the table and you know it.

‘—so I guess you don’t either. Do you really think they let people that drunk get married?’ Billy points at the blurry photos, as though they’re evidence.

‘I—‘ Something strange wells up inside Steve. He hadn’t considered, not for a moment, that it wasn’t _real_. ‘I guess not.’

‘We probably thought it would be really funny to buy rings and tell everyone we got married.’

Steve huffs. That does sound like something Billy would do. And it sounds like something drunk Steve would let Billy talk him into doing. ‘I’m getting too old for this shit,’ he says, slumping back against the headboard.

‘What do you mean _getting_ too old? You _are_ old.’

‘You’re only a few months younger than me.’

‘But I’m younger in spirit,’ Billy says with a wink. 

‘Immature is more like it,’ Steve murmurs.

Billy ignores him and rolls out of bed with a groan. He’s still a total gym-bunny so he’s as toned as he ever was, skin tan if not so smooth. Fucking gorgeous. Asshole.

Steve looks down at himself, pokes his stomach, then shrugs. He looks fine. ‘Hey, get me some aspirin, or something, would you?’ he says, but Billy doesn’t answer.

He does say, ‘Oh fucking fuck,’ though, and Steve looks over to where he’s standing, holding a piece of paper. All the colour has drained from his face.

‘What is it?’

‘Guess they do let drunk people get married.’ Billy turns the piece of paper around.

Steve can’t read the paper from here, but he can read Billy’s face well enough that he doesn’t need to. ‘Fuck,’ he says.

‘Yeah.’

‘Is it real?’

‘Looks pretty fucking real.’

A charged silence falls over the room. The disappointment that had flickered in Steve’s chest when he thought that they’d faked it, makes way for something warm and hopeful. But, beneath it, there’s a flutter of anxiety. ‘Well, we were talking about doing it, anyway.’ He presses his lips together. ‘Right?’

‘No,’ Billy says, still clutching the certificate. ‘ _You_ were talking about it. You were all, “Oh, Billy, isn’t it great us queers can get married and be just like the heteros, now?”,’ Billy says, clearly trying to mimic Steve’s voice.

‘OK, I never said that, and I do not sound like that.’ Steve huffs. ‘We’ve been together nearly thirty years and your impression of me is still shit.’

‘I do a great impression of you! You just have no appreciation for real talent.’

Steve presses his fingers to his temples, squeezes his eyes shut. He sucks in a deep breath against the wave of nausea rising within him. 

The bed dips and creaks. The glasses are pulled from Steve’s face. Billy presses his thumbs into Steve’s eyebrows, fingers massaging his temples. ‘No more Tequila for you, old man,’ he says and tweaks Steve’s nose.

‘No.’ Steve sighs. ‘Tequila always makes me do stupid things.’

Billy snorts, thumbs still pressing along Steve’s forehead. ‘Yeah, well this takes the cake.’

Steve’s eyes snap open. ‘So you _do_ think it was stupid?’

‘It wasn’t the smartest thing we’ve done.’

‘If it bothers you that much we can just…’ Steve waves a hand, can’t bring himself to say it.

Billy’s hands drop into his lap. ‘We can just what?’ 

‘Well, we don’t have to stay married,’ Steve says, immediately regretting the words. But he’s tired and everything hurts and Billy never wanted to get married anyway.

‘Right.’ Billy looks away, brow furrowed. ‘So, you spend all that time talking about doing it, and _now_ you’ve changed your mind?’

‘ _No_ ,’ Steve says. ‘But you don’t even believe in marriage. I don’t want you to feel…stuck.’ 

‘Well, we’ve already done it and everyone knows.’ Billy shrugs one shoulder.

‘Wow, that’s romantic.’ Steve fiddles with the edge of the sheet, glances up at Billy. ‘Do you want to be married to me?’

‘Like you said, we’ve been together thirty years.’

‘That doesn’t answer my question.’

Billy chews on his thumbnail. ‘I— Look I’m not, I don’t feel stuck, I—‘ He lets out a shuddering breath. ‘I’m too hungover for this conversation.’ He turns, like he’s going to move away, but Steve grabs him.

‘So am I, but I think…I mean, we should talk about this.’ Steve runs his thumb along Billy’s hand, rubbing over the gold band. ‘I don’t want you to feel stuck,’ he says again, ‘or like you have to, I don’t know, humour me.’

‘When have I ever done anything just to humour you?’ Billy’s voice is softer now. Serious. He sighs, again, chest rising and falling. Despite the years, and everything they’ve been through, he still hates using his words, and Steve can tell he’s struggling. ‘I want— I don’t— Fuck.’

‘Maybe we _should_ talk later.’

‘No, just—‘ Billy squeezes Steve’s hand. ‘I don’t believe in marriage, and it’s never been important to me. But it’s important to you. And you’re important—‘ He ducks his gaze.

The gesture takes Steve back to a younger Billy—angrier, but just as awkward with his feelings. ‘That still makes it sound like it’s for me, not you.’ Steve presses his lips together. ‘Not for _us_.’

Billy tips his head back. ‘Harrington.’

‘You were _drunk_.’

‘So were you.’ Billy worries a nail between his teeth, knee jiggling. ‘Look, drunk Billy does a lot of dumb shit, but he never does anything he doesn’t want to.’ He pokes Steve’s stomach. ‘Does he?’

Steve swallows thickly. ‘No, he doesn’t,’ he says, pulse fluttering.

‘And, uh’—Billy rubs a hand over his face—‘it’s all still fuzzy, but I think it was my idea.’ He looks a little sheepish but also a little…proud?

‘What?’ Steve shakes his head. ‘No way.’ His heart thuds. ‘Really?’

Billy rolls his eyes. ‘Yeah, I don’t remember details, but— Wait.’ He reaches for his phone, thumbing through it. ‘Max’s message said something about a video.’ He shifts around until he’s sitting by Steve’s side, and holds the phone out so they can both see it.

Facebook is opened to a video post they’re both tagged in by Simon. Billy hits play.

Steve puts his glasses back on, reaches over Billy to turn the volume up.

The video is shaky, and there’s a lot of background noise, but Billy and Steve are sitting together at a table, black and white decorations all around them.

In the video, Billy leans over and Steve can just make out him saying, ‘You should fucking marry me,’ jerking his chin in the direction of the pop-up wedding chapel at the party.

Steve laughs and playfully shoves Billy’s shoulder. 

But Billy shakes his head and says, ‘No, seriously, let’s do it.’

The party goes on around them as Steve looks at Billy—he’s got that dopey I love you so fucking much look on his face that Steve has only ever seen captured in photographs before—and then he says, ‘Yeah, OK,’ and kisses Billy.

‘Jesus Christ,’ Billy says, beside Steve in the bed, ‘at least I didn’t get down on one knee.’

Steve hums and says, ‘Like you could at your age,’ poking his finger into Billy’s side.

‘Hey,’ Billy says, squirming away, ‘you know better than anyone I’m still damn good on my knees.’

Steve smirks—‘Yeah, you are’—and rests a hand on Billy’s thigh. The video goes on for a little longer after Steve says yes, focussed on Steve and Billy kissing, before it becomes a blur as the phone is dropped onto the table.

Robin has left a comment on the post about the poor camerawork, how she would have done better, if Steve wasn’t such a traitor who got married without her. She’s joking, Steve knows it, but guilt swishes uneasily in his gut all the same.

‘So, you finally believe I wanna stay married?’ Billy says, locking his phone, and setting it back on the bedside table.

‘Yeah,’ Steve says, absently.

‘OK, why are you pouting, now?’ Billy pushes his thumb into Steve’s bottom lip. ‘I thought you’d be happy.’

‘No, I mean yeah.’ Steve bats his hand away. ‘It’s just…’

‘Just what?’

‘I— I’m starting to remember some of last night, and we have the video and the photos, but—‘ Steve presses his lips together, looks up at Billy. ‘None of our friends or family where there.’

‘I think I know where this is going,’ Billy says.

‘It doesn’t have to be a big deal,’ Steve says, quickly, ‘just our close family and friends?’

Billy heaves a sigh. ‘Will you stop pouting and finally let me suffer in silence if I say we can do some stupid fucking ceremony back home?’

‘I’m not pouting,’ Steve says, and then, ‘But yes.’

‘Good.’ Billy points a finger at Steve. ‘I’m not wearing a tux, though.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Whatever.’

‘I love you.’

‘I know.’ Billy’s lips twitch. ‘Me too.’

Steve smiles, feeling lighter than he has since he woke up, even with the lingering hangover, and he leans over and kisses Billy. He wonders how many kisses they’ve shared in the past thirty years. If he said that out loud, Billy would give him shit for being so sentimental. But he just got married. He’s allowed to be sentimental.

‘So,’ Billy says, pushing Steve’s hair out of his face, ‘how do you want to spend our first day as husband and…husband.’

Steve leans in close then says, voice low, ‘I’m gonna take some aspirin and go back to sleep.’

Billy screws his nose up but he says, ‘Sounds good,’ and flops back down. ‘Go get me something for this headache.’

‘If this is what being married to you is gonna be like—’

‘You already know what’s it’s going to be like.’ Billy looks at Steve, eyes half-lidded, lips tilted. ‘Nothing’s gonna change.’

It’s said almost offhand but Steve knows that it’s Billy’s way of reassuring him, reassuring the both of them. Of saying: _we’ve got this_.

Steve takes a moment to trace his finger along where his name is inked into Billy’s arm, the colours blurred after all these years.

‘I’m dying, Harrington,’ Billy says, even as he’s smiling, ’get a move on, will you?’

Steve makes a vague grumbling noise and clambers over Billy, but before he can get out of bed and find the pills, Billy’s pulling him back down. ‘Oof.’ He squirms until he’s resting more comfortably on top of Billy, hands tucked under the pillow by Billy’s head. ‘ _Billy_.’

‘You know,’ Billy says, running his hands down Steve’s sides, ‘drinking way too much Tequila and getting married in Vegas wasn’t the smartest idea we’ve had.’ He settles his hands at the small of Steve’s back, bumps their noses together. ‘But it wasn’t a bad one.’

‘No,’ Steve says, the final thread of anxiety floating away, ‘it wasn’t.’

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! :) I've never written a couple who've been together this long before so that was a challenge! I'd like to try again, one day, tbh! Also, I know some of the closing quotation marks after em dashes are, well, actually opening ones but the program I use to write just does that automatically and I keep forgetting to either change them back or change the settings to...not do that. So, apologies!
> 
> You can find a moodboard for the fic [over here on Tumblr](https://gothyringwald.tumblr.com/post/190866413540/if-you-ask-me-i-wont-say-no-t-27k) :) 
> 
> A few rambling notes:
> 
> So I was looking at the prompts for Week of Love and I got stuck on the idea of them still being complete dumbasses when they’re nearly 50 and doing stupid things like getting drunk and waking up married in Vegas. (I don't usually care much about my OTPs marrying but the idea just got its hooks in me and then I got weirdly emotional when writing the first draft so that was a revelation haha got more feelings about it than I thought I did!)
> 
> I didn’t think the marriage license bureau would be open at night but apparently it’s open until midnight so…that’s cool!
> 
> I’ve got a feeling they wouldn’t issue a license to two very drunk people, though. Maybe they do. Doesn’t seem responsible. ;D But getting drunk and getting hitched in Vegas is a trope I love a lot for some reason and it seems a very Billy thing to do haha
> 
> The [Black and White Party is a real thing](https://lasvegaspride.org/portfolio-items/afan-black-white-party-august-29-2015/)—I was googling what events were on in August 2015 in Las Vegas and when I saw the party, which is organised by AFAN for HIV/AIDS support, it just felt really fitting. And it works with this idea I have that Robin gets really into activism in the late 80s/early 90s (and continues through her life) and is in ACT UP and all that. And through her, Steve sometimes helped out. Billy is just like ‘Not a joiner’ haha
> 
> Oh and I called Robin’s old friend Simon because I recently watched The Wedding Banquet and the main character’s boyfriend, Simon, is a member of ACT UP
> 
> Title from the Pete Shelley song of the same name


End file.
